


(because you, like Rome, were built on ashes)

by blackkat



Series: Jon Antilles prompts [8]
Category: Star Wars: Republic (Comics), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: He pulls himself out of the surge of molten rock long after Kenobi's ship has lifted off, long after Durge and Ventress are gone.
Series: Jon Antilles prompts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941646
Comments: 21
Kudos: 450





	(because you, like Rome, were built on ashes)

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: What if Jon is (like) a phoenix, and he really dies everey time... He has the scars bc he tries to stay alive desperately. And now I'm sad :(

He pulls himself out of the surge of molten rock long after Kenobi's ship has lifted off, long after Durge and Ventress are gone. It sheets off of his skin, across new burn scars he can feel stretched across his back and shoulders, drips from scarred limbs and splatters the stone around his feet as he staggers away from the flow of lava, but—

But Jon is alive, yet again.

He collapses on a rocky outcropping, alone in the silence, and slumps over his knees, breath coming hard. Everything aches, but—not the raw ache of a burn. The steady, bone-deep pull of too many muscles reformed, too many bones regrown. It’s not a simple thing, coming back to life, and Jon always feels, a little, like he’s been wrung out, reshaped, rebuilt in the aftermath.

He died again. He died again, and he’d tried so hard to stay alive, tried not to suffer through that terrifying darkness one more time, but failed. Durge overpowered him, overwhelmed him before he could fight through the sheer power of the Dark Side that surrounded him. Jon had expected a fight, coming here, had known the Force was drawing him to Queyta for a reason, but he’d expected droids, regular soldiers. Not a Sith apprentice. Not an ancient bounty hunter so seething with hate and rage that just being near him had made Jon's head swim.

There's something he needs to do, he thinks vaguely, curling in on himself, tangling his fingers in his hair. There's—something. Nico was here. Nico was killed, and Knol, and—

Jon drags his thoughts back to Nico with a will, bleeds his grief into the Force as best he can, the tangle of it still raw and gaping. Nico died, and that means Tae—Nico's padawan, Nico's _nephew_ , a telepath too strong for his own good, who’s always warm and passionate and cheerful even to Jon _—_ is alone. Nico was Tae’s anchor, and Nico had mentioned, once, offhand, in a way that meant it was incredibly important, that he would trust the three of them to look after Tae if anything ever happened to him, above all others.

Something has, now. Nico is gone. Jon has no idea how long it’s been, but—it usually takes him several days to come back, if a death is particularly…thorough. Tae likely knows by now, and—

Jon was unprepared. Jon _failed_ , and died again, and now the three people he would have called his friends are dead too. But unlike him, they're not coming back.

(The first time it happened, he was young. Some unknown age, but—young. He’d fallen from a high place during training, hadn’t been able to catch himself before the ground closed. Dark Woman hadn’t caught him either, and—

Jon still doesn’t know—will never know—if she tried and couldn’t or was just waiting for him to catch himself.

It doesn’t matter, Jon supposes. Either way he hit the ground, and died, and then woke up, back bruised all across his shoulder blades and up his spine, aching, but otherwise fine. The only permanent sign of the incident was one long scar down the back of his neck, where the sharp rock had killed him.

He’s been collecting scars ever since.)

Tae, Jon thinks again, reminding himself, gathering up the scattered shards of his thoughts. Piecing them together, building the picture of what he needs to do, and—he needs to get to Tae, because he might not be Nico, might not be suitable as an anchor, but Tae will still need help. He would have felt Nico's death, and Jon can at least provide comfort.

Taking a breath, Jon pushes to his feet again. He has no ship, no clothes, no lightsaber—as soon as he finds Tae he’ll need to make another trip to Ilum to secure a crystal. But—

Kenobi got the swamp gas antidote. The clone armies will be safe until the next attempt the Separatists make to kill them. Durge and Ventress are still out there, still dangerous, and Jon should go after them.

He failed, though. He died, facing Durge, but he was fighting alone. With Tae, powerful and clever, and someone else, he might be able to kill the man. Might be able to remove Ventress from play as well, and give the Republic and the GAR that much more of an advantage.

A clone, maybe. Jon hasn’t answered the Council’s summons, has refused to take up a position as a general, but one or two clones might be willing to help him. ARC troopers, maybe.

Jon's head is spinning, but he straightens, gathers himself. Raises his head—

Fay's presence sings in the Force here, everywhere. Jon's eyes burn, and his breath comes in ragged pants, and he _aches_.

“Fay,” he whispers, because he loved Nico, loved Knol, but Fay—Fay gave him _himself_ , long after it had been stripped away.

Like a touch, like a push forward, the Force curls around him, and Jon breathes. Takes a step, then another, each motion firming, and _reaches_ —

Space bends, folds, _shifts_ , and Jon vanishes.

(Spread across his back, the burn throbs. It looks like outspread wings, wide and bright like flames against his skin, against all the smears of ash that mark him, as pale as scars.)


End file.
